


no sign of land

by perichareia



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Other, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:46:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perichareia/pseuds/perichareia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>
    <em>i love him.</em>
  </b>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <em>you’re seventeen years old and the words echo in your head like the aftershock of a heavy check into the glass. for a long moment, your world stops.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	no sign of land

**Author's Note:**

> check out [this playlist](http://8tracks.com/perichareia/no-sign-of-land) for bonus pain if that's your thing

_i love him._

you’re seventeen years old and the words echo in your head like the aftershock  
of a heavy check into the glass. for a long moment, your world stops. you roll  
the thought over, pushing at it, and it sticks. you think it’s probably a good thing  
you’re already sitting down, because this is a lot to take in. maybe you should’ve  
figured it out earlier, given how long you two have been playing together, but right  
now it’s new and it’s soft and for a single silent moment, it’s wonderful. you smile.

_i love you._

you’re eighteen years old and the words have gotten stuck in your throat far too  
many times. you’ve spent nearly a year shoving them around, rearranging them,  
staring at the face that caused them and wondering if you even deserve to know  
what kind of a response you’d get if you ever got brave enough to say them out loud.  
it feels like drowning, sometimes, the way you choke on your own feelings, so you  
shove them down, drowning them in return however you can.

_i need him._

you’re nineteen years old and your world has been shaken like a snowglobe–except  
this snowglobe has glitter heavy enough to leave bruises, and there are pieces missing  
that you aren’t sure you know how to live without. you play as if your skates are on fire,  
they say, but they don’t know how true it is. every game you play without jack is another  
wedge between you, somehow, and you hate yourself for leaving but you know how much  
you would’ve hated yourself if you’d stayed, so you don’t go back.

_i need you._

you’re twenty years old and you’re seeing him for the first time in who knows how long  
(one year, four months, three weeks and six days) when you almost say it. the words are  
dancing on the tip of your tongue, daring you to spit them out, but jack’s face looks like  
the sky in nevada just before a thunderstorm and there’s a knife in your gut that someone  
is twisting so you don’t say anything, just turn and leave. there are tire tracks on the  
pavement outside the zimmerman house for weeks.

_i miss him._

you’re twenty-one years old and it’s seared into your brain, an inescapable reality that  
leaves you feeling hollow; you should be on this ice together, not thousands of miles  
apart and not speaking because neither of you knows how to say things that don’t hurt.  
at least you’re not drowning anymore, but this might be worse because you’ve never  
felt so empty and it’s terrifying. you’ve always been a good actor, though, so you  
paste on a smile and pretend you’re not crumbling from the inside out.

_i miss you._

you’re twenty-two years old and you finally force yourself to stop caging the important  
things behind your teeth. it comes out like an accusation the first time, but you say it  
again and this time it sounds like a confession. you say it one more time and now it  
sounds like a plea, but you must have waited too long because jack doesn’t believe you,  
and you want to scream. you do, not long after, when it’s all too much and you’re  
slamming doors behind you as you walk out of your best friend’s life yet again.

_i love him. i need him. i miss him._

you’re twenty-three years old and you keep saying it. to yourself, to the tape on your stick  
and the gouges in the ice and the walls of whatever hotel room you’re staying in that week,  
an endless litany of loneliness you’ve kept bottled up for five years too long. when the aces  
win the stanley cup, you press your lips to cold metal and smile for the cameras and wish  
for icy blue eyes by your side, but you don’t get them. you remind yourself that  
you never deserved them anyway.

_i miss you. i need you. i love you._

you’re twenty-four years old and you don’t know how to tell jack that every word you’ve  
ever said to him since you were seventeen has had the full force of your heart behind it.  
you’re twenty-four and wishing you could crack open your chest just to show off the  
bottomless hollow inside but you can’t so you press jack zimmerman against the door  
of his bedroom and kiss him because it’s the only thing you can think of. you’re twenty-four  
and begging for a second chance at the only thing you’ve ever wanted and couldn’t have.

_i love you._

you’re twenty-four years old and you’re losing the only person who’s ever really mattered  
so you lash out with everything you’ve got, throwing words like knives in a desperate attempt  
to sever whatever invisible tether keeps you coming back to this boy who doesn’t love you.  
you say the worst things you can think to say and walk away, but in the echo of every step  
you take the three words you never found the strength to say repeat themselves  
over and over and over again.

_i love you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://chowder-official.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/perichareia) for more kent parson angst!


End file.
